Page 136 of Cozen

He didn’t get the chance to even move into the connecting room to check if she was there, or somewhere else. Jett caught sight of Sargon standing just beyond the entryway of the dining room, and waved a hand as if to silently call him over.

What the king wants …

Sargon scoffed internally at that thought. Jett was no king. At least, not to him, anyway.

“How are things looking around here?” Jett asked once Sargon joined him.

“Quiet,” Sargon replied, “and Kirk says the same. I just came back from checking in with him.”

Jett nodded, and smiled. “Good, good. I assume my guests have spent enough time in my home to know what the rules are. I hate having to repeat them time and time again.”

“Yes, well, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to get back to my—”

“There is something else, actually.”

Jett tipped up his glass for a long swig of the whiskey, and didn’t bat a lash at the likely harsh sting it left behind when he set the glass down to the wet bar.

“What is that?” Sargon asked.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Jett murmured. “I would have had one of the other guys do it, but I don’t even like them being upstairs in my private spaces unless they need to be. I assume you won’t be missed out here on the floor. You haven’t been mingling.”

Sargon lifted a brow. “My job is not to mingle.”

“Exactly, and you don’t linger, either.”

Not with these people.

“I won’t linger in your private rooms, if that’s what you’re saying,” Sargon replied.

Jett nodded once. “Yes, that’s what I am saying.”

“What do you need?”

“There’s a bag I set on the foot of my bed—a black duffle. I didn’t have time to set my things out for the evening before the party got underway. I would appreciate it if you would set my room up for me.”

Sargon cleared his throat. “And by set your things up, you mean …?”

“Some of the things are meant to make Cozen comfortable for the evening. You can place those items in the attached bathroom that doesn’t have my personal belongings inside. Other things will clearly be mine. Put them in my bathroom. Nothing more, nothing less.”

That sounded simple enough.

Except it made Sargon want to rage.

Jesus.

He needed to get a handle on this shit.

“Well, go,” Jett said to him sharply with a wave of his hand. “I would like to end my evening sooner rather than later.”

“What about the party?” Sargon forced himself to ask.

Jett laughed. “The party will continue on with or without me. There’s nothing rich people like more than drinking and mingling with other rich people. Now go.”

That was that.

Sargon figured—at least—he would be able to leave a gift behind for Cozen.

A just in case.